Weak Hearts
by JH22
Summary: Kyle has a heart disease. When he has a near fatal attack weird things start to happen to Stan and Kenny. Implied lemon later!
1. Weak Heart

Parings: Stan/Kyle; K2; Craig/Tweek

AN: Kyle has a weak heart due to heart disease and he goes through episodes of chest pain.

Kyle's POV

I slowly walked down the math hall of South Park High. This wasn't unusual behavior; I walked down this hall every day. I drifted to the wall, trying to stay out of the way of passing students. I felt depressed. I had an appointment with my doctor the day before and he told me my heart disease was getting worse, and surgery wasn't an option. My heart was getting weaker and weaker at such a fast rate the doctor said I would die in a few years. I blinked back tears as I passed the boys' bathroom. I heard a small sob and entered to investigate.

I saw someone curled up in the far corner, his head in his hands. His long blond hair curled and stuck up in weird tufts as if he had been trying to pull it out. His shoulders heaved and he hiccupped. He was breathing hard and was mumbling "too much pressure!" under his breath.

I walked over to Tweek and put a hand on his shoulder. Tweek's head snapped up and he jumped in surprise. He hiccupped and calmed down, tears still streaming down his cheeks.

"Tweek what happened?" I asked, sitting down next to him. Tweek started to sob and pulled furiously on his hair. He slowly regained what little composure he had and said thickly, "Craig broke up with me." Then he put his face in his hands again and cried.

"What!? Why?" I asked, appalled. Tweek and Craig had been together since sophomore year. They were both seniors now. Craig had been letting word slip that he would propose to Tweek after graduation and live happily ever after. What made Craig break up with Tweek?

"Butters told me that Craig was gonna pop the question . . . and I kinda freaked out. I went to Craig and asked him if he was gonna propose. He said yeah, and so I told him a wedding and being engaged would be too much pressure . . . then he got really pissed and yelled at me. He said if I didn't wanna marry him he wasn't gonna stay with a paranoid spaz like me." Tweek choked up and looked away shamefully.

"It's gonna be okay, Tweek. Craig's a bipolar bastard. Once he's calmed down he'll come back to you," I said reassuringly. Tweek seemed to calm down a little bit. I smiled.

"C'mon, let's get your face all clean," I said. I helped Tweek to his feet. He wobbled, but kept his balance. I helped him over to the sink and turned on the water. Tweek bent over and scrubbed his face, clearing away the salt trails on his cheeks. He stood up and wiped his face on his sleeve and looked at me. I smiled and offered to walk him to his next class. We were majorly late. As we walked to the science hall, I started to feel woozy. I slowly drifted toward the lockers covering the wall. I put my hand over my heart. I could feel my pulse clearly through my ribs. Suddenly, my chest felt like it was being stepped on by an elephant.

Tweek had stopped a few feet ahead of me. He looked back at me, a worried look on his face. I fell to my knees, my books scattering around me. I half screamed, half moaned as I fell forward. My heart was beating faster, but I could barely feet my pulse. I wanted to rip open my ribs and tear out my heart. I wanted to die. Tweek ran up to me, shaking my shoulder.

"Kyle! Kyle ohmigod are you okay!? Gah this is too much pressure!" Tweek scrambled around for a few seconds before sprinting into the nearest classroom. I laid there, agony spreading like wildfire through my body. I cracked.

"SOMEONE HELP ME!" I screamed over and over, rolling around on the floor. I heard doors open and kids run out to me. They surrounded me, some digging their cell phones out to call 911. A few teachers pushed through the crowd. I opened my eyes, tears flowing freely down my cheeks. I saw a familiar face in the pool of students.

Stan watched in horror, his face slightly green. I reached out toward him, but another wave of pain rushed through me, and I screamed again just as paramedics arrived. They put me onto a stretcher and rolled me down the hall and out the door. Stan ran behind them, franticly asking questions.

"Will he be alright?" Stan asked his voice high-pitched with worry.

"We hope so," An EMT said gruffly. Stan groaned.

"God . . . Kyle! Kyle answer me please!" Stan wailed. I had closed my eyes. I was too weak to open them again, but my mouth was slightly open. I moaned. Stan gave a sigh of relief.

We got to the ambulance. The EMTs packed me up and were about to leave when Stan made his way into the back of the ambulance.

"I'm coming with you." He stated. The EMTs didn't argue. They rushed me off to a hospital. And EMT put an oxygen mask on my face. I could breathe a little easier, but my chest still hurt. Soon we got to the hospital and they whisked me off to a room. Stan stayed behind to call my parents.

Once in my room, a nurse put an IV needle in my arm and injected me with some sort of sedative. I slowly faded from consciousness just as Stan came in and took my hand.

"I love you . . ." Stan whispered just as I succumbed to the sedative.


	2. Middle of the Night

Parings: Stan/Kyle; K2; Craig/Tweek

AN: Kyle has a weak heart due to heart disease and he goes through episodes of chest pain.

Kyle's POV

I slowly woke up. My body was numb, but I was starting to gain some sense of feeling from my fingers and toes. Someone was holding my left hand and bawling uncontrollably. Salty tears landed on my hand. Another person was holding my right hand aloft, two fingers pressed against my wrist, feeling my heartbeat even though there was a heart monitor by the headboard.

"Stan you don't need to feel his pulse." My mother sobbed thickly. Stan grunted, but didn't put my hand down. I heard my dad talking to a doctor with a high-pitched voice in the other room. I moaned quietly and slowly opened my eyes. Kenny, Stan, a pissed Cartman, and my mom looked at me in surprise. My mom started to sob harder and she ran to get my dad yelling, "Gerald he's wake! Kyle's awake!"

Stan had a little smile on his face; he laid my hand back down on the blankets.

"H-hey," I said weakly. Stan's little smile broke into a big grin. I looked around my room from the lumpy hospital bed. There was a sterilized white counter with orange bottles of pills and sterilized plastic bags of tubes and needles.

I could feel an IV needle in my left forearm. I looked down and saw a piece of tape with a long tube connected to a plastic bag of fluid hanging above my head under it. I looked at the arm rest of my bed frame and saw a few little buttons. I pressed the button with an up arrow on it and the front third of the mattress started to rise, taking my torso with it. I stopped when I started to get a little woozy.

Stan's grin faded a little. I looked at him worriedly.

"How long was I out?"

"A whole goddamn week Jewrat!" Cartman snapped, still glaring at me, "Kenny and Stan made me come visit you. But the nurses were pretty hot . . ."

"Cartman!" Kenny said dangerously. He reached out and put his hand on my chest, feeling my heart. I looked down and put my hand over his. He pulled back. I let him go. Cartman looked sideways at a nurse with overly large breasts walked in. She carried a clipboard and a vial of red stuff. She set the clip board on the counter and turned to me, vial in hand.

"Well Kyle," she said sweetly. I detected a note of falseness in her voice. "You just seemed to have had a bad episode of chest pain that's all. We think you need to stay a day or two to rest up a little more then you can get going."

Stan was looking at the vial. "What's with the vial?" He asked.

The nurse turned to face him, boobs jiggling. "We had to do some blood work for Mr. Cartman here. He's been here a few times about his weight so we decided to see what it was." She smiled again and beckoned Cartman to follow her. He was almost drooling.

"Ugh," I groaned, "that makes me want to throw up. She reminds me of Bebe."

"For sure," Kenny said.

Stan looked down, blushing. "Hey guys I gotta go, I have football tonight."

I smiled, "Go ahead, dude, I'll be fine."

Stan smiled back and left. My mom, dad, and some female doctor with the same overly large boobs walked into my room. The doctor smiled. It wasn't as false as the nurse's, but it was still not real.

"Well Kyle, your parents and I have decided your well enough to have one of your little buddies stay with you tonight." The doctor's high-pitched voice was annoying. My parents nodded as she spoke.

I grinned broadly.

"Kenny you wanna stay with me tonight?" I asked, turning towards him.

"For sure!" He said, grinning, "I need to get some stuff though. Be back in thirty." He rushed out.

I looked after him, my grin slowly fading. My chest was starting to hurt. I was wearing a skin-tight black tank top that showed my muscles very clearly and loose black sweats. I pulled the front of the tank top, glancing down and seeing a small row of stitches over my heart.

I scowled at them and looked up.

"What did you quacks do while I was out!?" I snapped, my voice cracking, "My other doctor said surgery would be too dangerous!" I felt light-headed, the stitches hurt. The doctor's plastic smile faltered.

"We merely cut open a hole to check how your heart as doing because your episode was so bad." She mumbled quickly. I glared at her.

"Well these things hurt like hell so give me a painkiller or something." I snapped, looking away. My mom glowered at me, telling me to _be nice_ without actually saying anything. I rolled my eyes.

Another nurse, again with boobs way too big for her (must be how they attract business), came in with a syringe filled with clear liquid. She injected it into my IV feed. In a few minutes I started to go numb again, and I slowly fell asleep.

Someone was pulling me onto my sheets . . . lying my on my stomach, my hips raised in the air. I was under the sedative's spell: I was numb, I couldn't move. I heard, very faintly, a bottle being popped open. Soon a greasy hand touched the top of my sweats. I started to gain feeling in the tips of my fingers just as the hand, wet and slippery with lotion, pulled down my sweats.

Feeling continued to spread up my arms and legs. An unpleasant feeling erupted from my ass: someone was sticking a finger into me. I tried to shout, but the sedative had not yet worn off. Suddenly, I could feel everything from my waist down.

Someone was sticking another finger into me, scissoring back and forth. It hurt but I couldn't cry out. Then something long and slippery pushed into me. I gave a small yelp. The pressure in my ass stopped, then continued. I could feel a hand on my member, stroking me. I gave an involuntary shudder. Then the pressure in my ass was gone as the person raping me pulled out then pushed back in again, over and over. He rubbed my member in time with his thrusts.

As I gained feeling in my upper body, I started to moan in pain. Whoever was doing this to me was thrusting me so hard he was ripping at my stitches. My heart started to hurt, beating faster and faster, I put a hand to my chest, trying to cushion the stitches as well as feel my heart. It was slowing down . . . I could barely feel it . . . God it hurt so much.

I cracked under the pressure.

I started to scream, trying to thrash around, but my body was still limp. A hand clamped my mouth shut. I bit the palm, but the hand didn't go away. I bit harder, tasting blood. Still the hand didn't leave my mouth. My vision blurred.

I could barely feel my heartbeat. I was feeling light-headed; black spots appeared in front of my eyes. I screamed into the palm, just as the person raping me released his seed into me. I shuddered and fainted just as someone turned the light on.


	3. At the Brink of Happiness

Parings: Stan/Kyle; K2; Craig/Tweek

AN: Kyle has a weak heart due to heart disease and he goes through episodes of chest pain.

Stan's POV

I sprinted to the hospital from, my red and blue hat clutched in my hand. My hair flew behind me. I ran through the automatic doors, careful to slow down so they could get a read on me. I almost crashed into the receptionist's desk, where I was greeted by a woman with short red hair and way large boobs (every stupid woman in the damn hospital had boobs . . . got really annoying when they wore low-cut tops and showed off massive amounts of cleavage).

"Wanting to see Kyle Stan?" She said without looking up from her computer.

"Yeah." I huffed, rubbing a stitch in my side.

"Room 375."

"I know!" I sprinted toward the elevator. I pushed the up button and the elevator doors opened. I walked in and pushed the third floor button. It glowed an annoying shade of orange and moved slowly upwards. Elevators always like to take their damn sweet time . . .

The doors finally opened to the third floor and I jogged toward room 375, Kyle's room. I knocked on the door, and a weak voice said, "C'mon in Stan."

I turned the knob and saw Kyle lying on his back, his toned chest bare. There was a white bandage dotted with red over his heart, where the stitches had ripped . . . I balled my fists, trying not to punch the wall.

I walked stiffly over to Kyle. He looked at me with calm green eyes. I relaxed.

"How're you feeling?" I said.

"I've been better. My ass hurts like hell though." Kyle smiled. I hated how he could joke so easily about what happened . . . made me so pissed off . . .

"How can you just talk about what happened like it's nothing?" I said darkly. Kyle looked taken aback.

"W-what d'you mean Stan?"

"YOU GOT _RAPED_ BY KENNY KYLE!" I shouted, losing my cool completely. Kyle shrunk back, trying to sink into his pillow. Another blood spot appeared on the bandage on his chest. It sobered me up a little, but not enough to calm me down completely.

"YOU ALMOST DIED GOD DAMNIT!"

"But – but I didn't . . ."

"YOU HAD TO HAVE ENOUGH SEDATIVES TO KNOCK OUT A BLUE WHALE BEFORE YOU CALMED DOWN ENOUGH TO GO GET YOUR STITCHES FOXED AND YOUR ASS CLEANED OUT!"

"Stan stop . . ." Kyle murmured weakly.

"KENNY SHOT HIMSELF!"

"What?" Kyle tried to shout, but his voice barely came above a whisper.

"KENNY SHOT HIMSELF BECAUSE HE THOUGHT HE'D DRIVEN YOU CRAZY!" I turned away, glaring at the tiles. I took a few deep breaths and turned back to face Kyle.

He was pale and breathing hard, his thin body sinking into his many pillows. I blushed and leaned over him, all anger gone. His chest heaved as he struggled to breathe. His eyelids started to flutter. I saw a red button by his bed and pushed it.

A nurse rushed in, big boobs bouncing. She saw Kyle and rushed out again. She came back with an oxygen tank and a mask. She looked at me.

"Hold his head up please." She said in a serious yet high-pitched voice. I nodded and slowly lifted Kyle's head up so I wouldn't sprain his neck. The nurse put the oxygen mask over his nose and mouth and set the tank onto the tiled floor. She turned the nozzle to the tank and pushed me out of the way. She glanced at the barely-beeping heart monitor and side-stepped to Kyle's chest. She stood on her toes and placed her hands, one on top of the other, just over Kyle's heart.

She pressed down four times in quick succession.

I sat back and watched with a worried look on my face as the nurse worked. Finally she stood back as the heart monitor beeped regularly. I gave a heavy sigh of relief as she removed the oxygen mask from Kyle's face. He was breathing normally. He looked like he was sleeping. I glanced at the bandage on his chest. A small trickle of blood was slowly flowing down his stomach.

"Uh . . ." I began uncertainly.

"Looks like he broke another stitch." The nurse said, walking to the sterile white counter and fishing around for gloves and tools. She pulled a stool up next to Kyle's bed carefully pulled the bandage off. Wires poked through his skin, a few merely being held together by themselves.

Skin was shredded along the stitches, blood flowing freely from them. The nurse pulled a few of the stitches out and cut away the ragged skin. She cleaned the blood with an iodine solution and started working.

Soon she was done. She put a new bandage over the stitches and left. I sat in the stool the nurse left behind and gazed at Kyle's peaceful face.

After a few hours Kyle woke up. He groaned and slowly opened his eyes. He looked at me, green eyes glazed over from the medicine. I guess the drama I was causing wasn't really helping his health much.

"Stan . . ." Kyle murmured weakly.

"Kyle I'm so glad you're okay . . ." I started to say, but Kyle put a thin finger to my lips.

"C'mere." He said normally, a sly tone in his voice. I leaned over to him and he put him arms around my neck, pulling me toward his face.

"I heard what you said before all this crazy god damned drama happened, and I love you too." Kyle pressed his lips to mine, closing his eyes. I returned the kiss, happy that my feelings for Kyle were mutual.

Soon Kyle broke the kiss for air. He leaned back against his pillows, looking at me expectantly.

"So Stan," he said, "Wanna hook up when I finally get released from this hell-hole?"

I nodded blankly, then broke into a wide grin.


End file.
